Hope

I've been attempting to ride my bike to work. So, far, however, I have only accomplished this lofty goal (it's not really all that lofty) twice. Once during my second week when I was feeling particularly energetic and once this week--due to a little rain. New York's subway system basically ceased operating, like dominoes, one by one.

I didn't particularly enjoy the ride there--the traffic was chaotic and I was stressed about the time. I was also worried that everyone else would have shown up to work in a more timely fashion and I'd be the only ass that couldn't figure out a better way to get to work. The last time this sort of thing happened, I also ended up riding my bike. Under dressed and in freezing cold weather. In December. In New York. And pregnant.

After I miscarried, I was somewhat convinced it was due, at least in part, to the hellish bicycle ride I took that December. Of course that is a ridiculous notion. Bicycle rides don't generally cause miscarriages.

So, on Wednesday, during my rather enjoyable ride home, I decided that once I got home, I'd take a pregnancy test. For the hell of it. My period was not due for several, and really, I mean several days. Like, next Monday. I might as well have been peeing on a stack of money. Besides, I wasn't feeling particularly pregnant. My breasts were hurting--but I'd learned that most symptoms I've felt in the last few months have either been the product of wishful thinking or premenstrual syndrome or a little of both. The last time, I just KNEW I was pregnant. I just knew. So, I took the test. And it was instantly negative. I chastised myself for doing something so idiotic--part of me, I know, had made that appointment with the Reproductive Endocrinologist because, I really believed that it could somehow bring us good luck - that I'd show up and be pregnant and NOT EVEN KNOW IT! And wouldn't that be hilarious? A real HOOT. The doctor would laugh, the nurses would laugh. We'd all grab hands and sing and dance in a circle around the stirrups. And all would be well.

But, it was negative.

I actually forgot about it fairly quickly thereafter and went about my business. I was somewhat exhausted and sweaty and disgusting. But I sat at the computer doing very, very important things. Like looking at furniture stores. And perusing silly blogs about clothes. And answering a few e-mails. I went to the bathroom to shower, and was about to throw the damn thing away when I noticed a faint second line. Yes. Very, very faint. I was meeting my husband and a friend of his out and didn't really know how to react. I really wasn't expecting it, at all. I took another the next morning. Faint line. One that evening. Line. Then this afternoon, I saw what I normally see the day before my period--a slight discoloration, brownish. I called the husband and told him it may be another chemical. I tested again. Faint line. Seems fainter. There isn't anything I can do--and I know that. And I just have to wait.

But hope springs eternal.

And bike riding? I'm trying to hang up the superstitions. Not a simple task.